


Children see it clearer even if they're too young to understand...

by Yula (ToasterTacoWriter)



Category: Original Work
Genre: Drabble, Fictional, REALLY short story
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-12-26
Updated: 2018-12-26
Packaged: 2019-09-27 13:22:46
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 643
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17162735
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ToasterTacoWriter/pseuds/Yula
Summary: Short drabble. About a strange mother and a brave child.





	Children see it clearer even if they're too young to understand...

It never is an option for her to stay. It is a silent obligatory choice she makes for the frazzled woman wrapping brown, shivering arms around her tiny frame. The hot, wet tears trickle onto her scalp. The overbearing warmth almost suffocates her, but her lungs continue to inhale and exhale repeatedly. 

“He’s a monster!” the frail woman frantically whispers to her child. 

The bags under her eyes and the deep lines near her lips are the only indicators of her approaching middle age. There are no bruises or scars on her limbs. The green halter dress she wears looks brand new, and the emerald jewels on her ears and neck are dim in comparison to the shimmering gold ring on her left hand. 

“I’ll leave him! I’m going to divorce that bastard!” the woman cries. At her loud vexations, her young daughter struggles not to squirm in her grasp. 

“Oh if it weren’t for you Alana! My little baby, you’re the only reason I stay.” 

Alana peers over her shoulder at the shiny marble floors, and a feeling of indignation bubbles inside of her. She could only sigh in frustration and sadness as her mother sobs loudly near her ear. She furrows her brows,

“But what about Lara?” 

They were at the local supermarket. Alana sits inside a large red cart; she crosses her tiny arms, kicking a large bag of corn chips. A tired woman with dark wavy hair pushes the shopping cart, her somber eyes straining to look for a brand of canned sardines, the cheapest she could find. She drags herself along the aisle, ignoring the weird glances sent her way from a handful of people passing by. Walking a few paces behind the pair is another girl, a few years older than Alana, with long, wavy brown hair, rosy cheeks and puffy eyelids. She wears a sleeveless blue dress, a stark contrast to the large red marks on her pale arms. 

As the cart slows to a halt, the girls’ mother silently scours the canned goods aisle, a few feet away from her children. The youngest of the two, stands up on the cart, looks around to make sure no one is watching. She lightly steps on a tin box and awkwardly climbs out of the red cage.

“Lara, Lara help!” she anxiously whispers, almost toppling over the steel edge. 

Sniffling, Lara quickly runs toward the little girl, her shaking arms supporting Alana and gently setting her down on the white tiled floor. They immediately hold hands.

“D’you want to play Alana?” Lara softly queries.

Alana shakes her head and proceeds to quietly examine her older sister; she observes the fading yellow marks on her shoulder and the bright red marks her mother angrily imprinted on her while entering the store. She frowns. Quickly glaring at their distracted mother, a spontaneously strange idea pops up in Alana’s mind,

“Let’s go to grandma and grandpa’s house.”

Frightened wide eyes stare incredulously at her, Lara almost lets go of the tiny hand.

“What’re you saying Alana? We can’t. Mommy will get mad at us.” her voice quivers,  
“She’ll hit me again.”

A determined look flashes across Alana’s face,

“Only if she catches us.”

For a moment Lara freezes: a hesitant look on her round face and a look of terror in her eyes. The taller child chances a fearful glance at their mother but before she could protest any further, Alana comfortingly squeezes her hand. 

 

On that seemingly serene afternoon, two young girls ran through the doors of an old supermarket, giggling and smiling like all little children should. Their clasped hands never let go of each other, even as they both flew across the asphalt. As their small bodies lay motionless on the rough ground, the blazing sun showered them with a warmth more comforting than they’ve ever known.

**Author's Note:**

> Created earlier this year, was feeling really sad that day but I can't remember why.
> 
> Anyway, I would appreciate any comments about my story :D  
> This is completely fictional btw, not based on anyone in real life.
> 
> #WriterInProgress


End file.
